


The Beauty in Being Broken

by thefangirlingdead



Series: Friend, Love, Freefall [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Worship, Cas thinks Dean is beautiful, Emotional Sex, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefangirlingdead/pseuds/thefangirlingdead
Summary: Dean Winchester is beautiful in every which way, but especially like this.When Dean opens his eyes, the weight of his gaze hits Cas like a truck, and for the millionth time, he finds himself in awe of the man beneath him. How is it that this man - this man who managed to kill God and stop countless apocalypses and change the world for the better time and time again - can look at Castiel, former angel of the lord, like that and make him feel like nothing else on earth matters? How is it that Castiel managed to fall, both figuratively and literally for this very man, and how is it that this man loves him back?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Friend, Love, Freefall [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048201
Comments: 12
Kudos: 152





	The Beauty in Being Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm still feral about "Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester" so I wrote some really passionate, sappy porn of Cas thinking Dean is the most beautiful man in the universe because he is. 
> 
> This one-shot picks up right where [Nobody Counting Our Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041042) leaves off, but like every fic in this series, it can definitely be read as a one-shot. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Now I really think you're heaven sent  
'Cause you've been forcin' all these hollow hearts to feel again  
Now I really think you're heaven sent  
'Cause there's a beauty in being broken, I've been seein' it _

\- "[Without Fear"](https://open.spotify.com/track/6R5h8XQLLsYsAVGABm7E3J?si=FNK71PDKSAiZ6lEsfpJQOw) \- Dermot Kennedy

* * *

Dean Winchester is beautiful. 

It has been so long since that once little truth became Castiel’s reality that he can’t even remember the first time that he ever even entertained the thought. It’s just a fact, something that has always been true, since the dawn of time. Dean Winchester is beautiful. 

Maybe Cas first noticed it when he realized that Dean never once gave up on him in Purgatory (“I prayed to you, Cas, every night”). Or maybe it was a slow thing that creeped up on him, when Dean continued to sacrifice everything again and again in a hopeless attempt to save the world. Yeah, maybe it was Dean’s unwavering hope that good would triumph over evil, that if they fought hard enough, they’d win. Maybe, Cas realized it upon their first meeting, but simply didn’t have a word to put to the feeling or the realization back then when he looked right into those brilliant green eyes and saw fear and anger, but also determination and hope and compassion. Maybe it happened when Cas methodically pieced his soul back together by the atom, before they even properly met, when the core of who Dean was as a person was laid bare before him, because that alone was beautiful in itself. 

Dean is beautiful, and Cas knows it to be one of life’s truths, just like the sky is blue and grass is green and the sun will rise every morning and set every night and eventually, everything will come to a natural end. Dean is beautiful, and it really doesn’t matter when Cas first realized it, because he has all the time in the world to appreciate his beauty _now,_ and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of it. 

Dean Winchester is beautiful. Some people might call him ruggedly handsome or simply attractive or even _sexy,_ but those words don’t do his beauty justice. No, everything about Dean is beautiful; his kindness, his hope, his humanity and his love… the sharp line of his jaw and the way he carries himself and the freckles that dot his skin and -

And the way that Dean looks _now,_ bathed in soft morning light, head tilted back against the sheets, lips parted on a gasp and eyes fluttering closed. Dean Winchester is beautiful in every which way, but he’s particularly beautiful like this, in a way that Castiel is lucky enough to see him now, so exposed and _bare._

Years ago, Cas never imagined that he’d be privileged enough to get to know Dean like this, so intimately, so soft and gentle and _open._ On the surface, Dean is a grizzled warrior. He’s a sharp shooter and a brilliant tactician when lives are on the line and the man can pull his own weight in hand to hand combat, and Cas loves all of those things about him, but at his core, Dean is also tender and delicate caring and so, _so_ vulnerable and _that’s_ what Cas sees now when he’s got Dean stripped bare, both figuratively and literally. 

Years ago, when they first met, when they were just soldiers together in an unbeatable war, when they were brothers and best friends and family, Cas never even entertained the idea that one day, he might get to see Dean like this. In fact, he would have been happy to settle for what they had before, if it just meant that he could remain in Dean’s life. He was _happy_ being partners, friends, even family, but _this…_ Cas wouldn’t trade this for the world. He feels so grateful to know Dean so profoundly now, both inside and out. Now, he knows the beauty of Dean when he first wakes up in the morning, shuffling into the kitchen with messy hair, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He knows the beauty of Dean exhausted after a long trip to visit Sam and Eileen, or an eventful night at The Roadhouse or even the occasional hunt. He knows the beauty of Dean buzzed on good whiskey, his cheeks flushed and the smile never leaving his face because they have so many good things to celebrate nowadays, and he knows the beauty of Dean even when he’s hungover, grouchy and tired, but still accepting of Cas’ help when he hands over a bottle of Advil and some water the next morning, murmuring a soft _“love you”_ in return.

And Cas intimately knows the beauty of Dean Winchester like _this,_ sighing out his name, his muscles flexing, then relaxing at every touch, his breath coming out in soft exhales and sharp gasps. Dean is absolutely _stunning_ like this, spread out over their king sized mattress, nude and gasping words of pleasure and encouragement alongside Cas’ name, his throat bobbing as he swallows, eyelashes painting long shadows across his face in the brilliant sunlight, his fingers clenching where they’re buried in Cas’ hair. Cas might be biased, but seeing Dean like _this_ is one of life’s greatest pleasures. It’s something that he thought he’d never have, so he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take full advantage of it, if he doesn’t savor the moment and take things slow, cataloguing every little movement, every little moan and sharp intake of breath and -

_“Fuck, Cas, come on.”_

Dean’s voice is rough when he finally manages to string together the complete sentence, a gravely tone that sends shivers down Cas’ spine and has him digging his fingers into the meat of Dean’s thighs. Everything about Dean is beautiful, from his striking green eyes to his calloused fingers and the gray flecks in his hair and stubble all the way to the sharp lines of his collar bones and the trail of hair that leads down his navel, the hard cock jutting out from between his hips and the raspy sound of his voice now, as he asks for just a little bit more. 

_God,_ he’s beautiful, and Cas always makes sure that he knows it. 

Cas, unbothered by Dean’s impatience or the slight irritation in his voice, simply leans down, lips grazing across his hips and the area just above his groin, reveling in the way that Dean’s muscles jump at the light contact, slightly ticklish. “We have all morning” Cas murmurs against his skin, “And I recall promising that I’d make it up to you earlier.”

Above him, Cas can hear the telltale soft _thud_ of Dean’s head falling back against the pillow once more. He’s sure if he glanced up, he’d find the other man screwing his eyes shut or staring up at the ceiling, but he doesn’t stop kissing up Dean’s stomach, his hands trailing gently up along his sides. He revels in the feeling of goosebumps that rise in their wake, of the feeling of Dean taking a deep breath, his chest rising sharply then falling before he gathers himself enough to speak again. 

“That was like _twenty minutes_ ago,” Dean grumbles, but without even looking at his face for confirmation, Cas can tell that there’s absolutely no venom in his voice. He sounds exasperated and keyed up, but not annoyed, even as he adds, “And I doubt that trying to _kill me_ like this counts as making it up to me.”

_Dramatic, as always._ Cas finally glances up at Dean’s face at that, their eyes meeting for a charged, heart stopping moment. Cas has barely even touched him, and Dean looks absolutely _wrecked,_ hair sticking up in all directions, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide. Just the sight is enough to suck the breath from Cas’ lungs. He maintains his composure, though, furrowing a brow as he responds, “I’d hardly say that I’m -”

_“Cas,”_ Dean interrupts, a hint of impatience bleeding into his tone, his fingers tightening in his hair once more. In return, Cas simply offers him a small, playful smile - he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing, after all - and Dean throws his head back once more, breaking eye contact and letting out a long-suffering sigh. 

Cas lives for this, really - riling Dean up, dragging things along, making him squirm and beg for release. It doesn’t come from some sadistic place, but more so because Cas just revels in seeing him like this, so unlike the hardened man on the surface that most people know. Dean is - he always _has been_ \- so, so terrible at asking for what he needs or wants because he’s always so concerned about everyone else and never himself, because he’s not used to getting what he wants, so when Cas has a chance to get him like this, he takes it. He _lives_ to see Dean like this: selfish, wanton and needy. So if that means that he takes his sweet time kissing down Dean’s neck or slowly undressing him or seemingly getting distracted by his hip bones just before going down on him, then so be it. 

Because Dean is _beautiful_ like this.

Cas _knows_ that he should give Dean what he wants, because he’s being _so good,_ and he deserves this, but he opts to continue taking things slow, and instead of continuing his descent back south, he makes the decision to climb back up Dean’s body, letting his lips trail up the entire way. Dean groans in annoyance, but Cas knows that it’s only half-hearted if the way that he kisses when their lips finally meet tells him anything. It’s messy and needy and nothing like the sweet morning kisses that they were sharing only half an hour ago, but Cas loves it all the same and kisses Dean back with gusto, his own fingers carding through the other man’s hair, a thigh slotting between his legs, bodies pressed together. 

When they part, Dean is breathless against his lips, his eyes still shut, his chest heaving with every breath. And _god,_ he looks beautiful, so Cas tells him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, looking down at the way that his hands frame Dean’s face, his thumb gently swiping at his cheek bone, Dean’s stubble scratching against his palm. Dean turns at that, pressing his cheek into Cas’ right hand, pressing a kiss to whatever skin his lips can reach, a small, shy smile spreading across his face.

When Dean opens his eyes, the weight of his gaze hits Cas like a truck, and for the millionth time, he finds himself in awe of the man beneath him. How is it that _this_ man - this man who managed to kill God and stop countless apocalypses and change the world for the better time and time again - can look at Castiel, former angel of the lord, like that and make him feel like nothing else on earth matters? How is it that Castiel managed to fall, both figuratively and literally for this very man, and how is it that this man loves him back? 

Cas has already said all of these words to Dean before, so there’s no use in repeating himself now, especially when he knows that he should just be getting on with it, but he’s sure that it’s written all over his face. And for a moment, time seems to stand still as Dean gazes up at him before he huffs out a soft laugh and murmurs, “Yeah, you too.” 

And _god,_ so much has changed since they first met, since they first became _family,_ even since Cas learned that his feelings were reciprocated, that he could _have_ what he always wanted. Back then, if he would have called Dean beautiful, the man would have balked, would have made a joke of it or denied the claim until he was blue in the face. But a few years removed from the end of the world and plenty of _Cas’_ monologues about Dean’s beauty later, the other man just _smiles_ and accepts it, and it just drives Cas’ point home. 

He’s beautiful. 

At that, Cas finally decides that Dean has done quite enough waiting and resumes his descent back down his body, pressing reverent kisses into the sensitive parts of his skin, his fingers trailing close behind, and he revels in every sigh, every sharp intake of breath and the feeling of Dean’s hips lifting against him and his fingers in his hair. By the time he’s mouthing at the hard line of Dean’s cock, he has catalogued every sound and every movement to store away for safekeeping, and _now,_ he lets himself get lost in the moment, in the Dean’s musky taste and the string of obscenities that he mutters when Cas finally takes him into his mouth. 

Cas was never really interested in sex, not when he was an angel, and not even when he was briefly human. It was a curious, compelling thing, but he never craved for it, never desired it, never looked at another human and felt hunger or want or need. 

Until Dean

Again, he’s not quite sure when that switch flipped for him, and he’s certain that if it were anyone else, he likely wouldn’t feel the same, but _now,_ Cas lives to see Dean like this, laid bare in front of him, gasping his name, hips arching off of the bed slightly to meet his touches. It’s just another side of Dean that Castiel is privileged enough to see, a side of Dean that only he gets to see, and _that_ thought sends a thrill up his spine. Dean’s sighs of pleasure and soft moans not only fill Cas with just a little bit of pride - because _he’s_ doing that - and spur him onward, but they also go straight to his groin as well, making him ache for release. 

He doesn’t focus on _that_ right now, though. Instead, he just focuses on _Dean._ He focuses on the gentle, tentative thrusts of Dean’s hips, meeting Cas when he swallows around him or touches what his mouth can’t quite reach with his hand. He focuses on the stunning sounds that leave Dean’s mouth, the clench of his fingers in his hair, the calloused hand trailing down his face to tenderly cup his cheek. 

Dean is beautiful in every which way, at any given point in time, in a million different timelines, but Cas revels in Dean’s beauty like _this_ right now, because it’s so _open_ and honest and _raw._ Right now, Dean isn’t afraid to ask for what he wants, be it vocally when he mutters mindlessly, _“Fuck, Cas, just like that,”_ or non-verbally when he presses his head down just a little bit or tugs slightly at his hair or touches any inch of him that he can cause _he’s so fucking handsy_ when he’s like this _._ Dean is rarely selfish, always putting others before himself, but he can _take_ now, whatever he needs, and Cas will gladly give it to him. Cas will always give him anything that he asks for. 

Dean is - always has been - like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap. Years ago, that came with a bad connotation - Dean was easy to agitate, quick to make rash decisions when emotions were involved without considering all possible outcomes, thinking with his heart first and logic later. And Cas loved him all the same, but _now,_ after everything, now that Dean doesn’t have to worry about the end of the world and protecting his brother and saving the people he loves, he’s slowly unwinding.

Intimacy, however, is another beast entirely. It took months after they were first intimate with one another for Dean to actually _ask_ for something that he wanted in bed, and it was only because Cas patiently and gently coaxed it out of him. It was only because it was what _Cas_ wanted. Even now, three years removed from their reunion and the beginning of their romantic relationship, it can still take some time for Dean to work up to asking for what he wants. 

But when Cas has him like this, desperate and impatient and on the edge of orgasm, he comes out of his shell with a little more ease. So Cas can’t help but smile to himself when he pulls away to mouth along the side of Dean’s dick, because it isn’t long before Dean is rocking his hips up, muttering mindlessly, _“Come on, I’m close - Cas -”_

And, because he loves to hear it, because Dean’s voice sounds so utterly _beautiful_ when it’s wrecked like this, Cas can’t stop himself from murmuring, his lips brushing Dean’s sensitive skin, “What do you need, Dean?”

“Your mouth,” Dean answers almost immediately, breathless, “Your hand - _shit,_ I don’t care, I just - please -”

And that’s all it takes before Cas is taking him back into his mouth, reveling in the choked off moan that he earns in response. Now, Cas doesn’t take his time, doesn’t attempt to bring Dean to release at a leisurely pace. Instead, he reaches up, pressing Dean’s hand firmly against the back of his head, their fingers overlapping as he encourages him to take what he needs, to _let go_.

It eventually ends only moments later with Dean’s back arching gracefully off of the bed, mouth parted in a silent scream, fingers clenching in his hair, eyes screwed shut as he comes down Cas’ throat. Cas stays put for a few moments afterward, waiting for Dean to come down before pulling off of him entirely and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He sits up, opening his mouth to say _something_ \- likely to ask if Dean is _okay,_ checking in as he always does after something like this - but he doesn’t have a chance to speak before a pair of lips are pressing firmly to his own, effectively silencing him. 

In the afterglow, long after Dean has pressed him into the mattress, hastily undressed him and brought him to release with his own hand, Cas finds himself lying next to him on top of the sheets, nude and dishevelled and honestly a little exhausted despite the fact that their day is just beginning, and honestly… it feels _perfect._

As Cas lays in bed with Dean, their fingers intertwined, Dean’s face pressed into the crook of his neck, he lets his mind drift. As his free hand crawls lazily up Dean’s stomach and chest, coming to rest at his shoulder, Cas finds himself thinking about all of the time that came before this, the time that they wasted dancing around each other, because they didn’t have the luxury or the _guts_ to face this growing thing between them head-on, and he wonders what his past self would think if he knew that he’d end up here. It was all worth it, of course, and Cas would do it all over again if it meant that he could have this, but he can’t help but wonder if he’d believe it, back then, that he could have what he wanted, that he’d be able to see Dean like this, to share moments like this with him. 

As Cas lays in bed with Dean, watching the softly falling snow outside their bedroom window, admiring the way that the brilliant morning light seems to make Dean’s eyes shine countless different shades of emerald and jade and forest green, he finds himself thinking of the two years that he spend rebuilding heaven with Jack. He wouldn’t go back and trade _that_ for the world, either, because Jack needed him, after all, but…

But, as Cas turns, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Dean’s head, reveling in the beautiful smile that the action earns, he can’t fathom why he spent so long reworking Heaven when his own personal Heaven is right here, tangled up in the sheets with this terrifying, powerful, compassionate, loving, _beautiful_ man.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably be writing this ongoing series finale fix-it until the end of time, so if you wanna yell at me about it or send me prompts/headcanons, feel free to do so in the comments or on Tumblr! ([thefangirlingdead.tumblr.com](https://thefangirlingdead.tumblr.com))


End file.
